


Overwork

by way1203



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Exhaustion, M/M, Overworking, Poor Lestrade, Protective Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9285470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/way1203/pseuds/way1203
Summary: In which Greg is overworked and Mycroft has a plan to help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Lestrade looks so exhausted this season. I wrote this because someone needs to take care of him, and I need a distraction while I wait for TFP on Sunday. I may or may not continue.

Greg ran a hand over his face as he entered his flat. Exhaustion weighed heavy on him and caused his shoulders to hunch. He locked the door behind him and trudged toward his kitchen. Getting people to confess often made him tired, but recording several confessions after being awake for far too long was the main cause of this particular burnout.  
  
"I'm home."  
  
He wasn't sure why he said this. It wasn't like anyone would be there to greet him. His wife was long gone with that P.E. teacher Sherlock mentioned all those Christmases ago. Every date he went on never amounted to anything. They were always disinterested in him, and there was always a case that pulled him away from their date early. Then there was Mycroft. He wasn't sure where he stood with the elder Holmes. Greg couldn't exactly call what they were doing a relationship. They had dinner on four separate occasions over the course of six months. They'd slept together twice, both times on Mycroft's terms, but Greg never complained. In fact, he welcomed it. But he honestly wasn't sure if they were in a relationship. They'd never had that discussion. He'd meet with Mycroft, then not hear from him for weeks. Greg wanted to call him on it, but he never did. He didn't want to spoil whatever it was they were. Especially not when he had feelings for him. For now, Greg supposed, he was essentially married to his work, and that thought truly depressed him. He tossed his keys on the counter. He should probably eat something, but that would require actually making something...with ingredients. He'd been pulling all-nighters at work, he hadn't had time to do any shopping. He'd have to call for something. Greg opened a cabinet and removed a bottle of scotch and a glass. He poured himself a healthy amount.  
  
"You really ought to drink less, Gregory."  
  
"Jesus!" The DI jumped.  
  
He glanced through the kitchen's bar window into the living room. Under the glow of a table lamp, he noticed Mycroft Holmes sitting in an armchair, his right leg crossed over his left, his head tilted slightly as he skillfully twirled his umbrella. "Honestly, you act as though you've seen a ghost."  
  
Greg placed a shaky hand to his chest. "How in the hell did you get in here?"  
  
"You keep your spare key in a fairly obvious place."  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
Mycroft stood. "To take care of you."  
  
"What?" Greg lifted his eyebrows. "You're going to take care of me?"  
  
"We both know you've been overworking yourself. I'm here to help you."  
  
"I'm a big boy, right? I can take care of myself, thanks."  
  
Greg returned the scotch to the cabinet and brought the glass to his lips. When he turned back around, Mycroft was in the tiny kitchen.  
  
He downed the scotch in one go. "What?"  
  
"I know you want a relationship with me, Greg. Am I correct?"  
  
"I...I…"  
  
"Yes or no?"  
  
"Yes, alright? I want a relationship with you."  
  
"Ah." Mycroft nodded once and leaned back against the counter top. "Well, you've made it quite difficult for me to get closer to you. Burying yourself in work by taking on cases that are meant for others. It's not conducive to a relationship...or your health. If you continue to work so intensely, there'll be nothing but a corpse left. Necrophilia is not in my nature."  
  
The detective inspector lowered his eyes. Mycroft had much more than a point. Greg was working himself into the ground. He wasn't getting nearly enough sleep. The last time he showered was two or three days ago. His eating habits consisted of black coffee, bagels, scotch, vending machine food, and the occasional meal at the pub near the station when he tore himself away for a moment.  
  
"Here is what you are going to do. First, you will take a shower and change into something comfortable. I will have a proper meal waiting for you once you're done. After you've eaten, you will go to bed. I've taken the liberty of contacting your supervisor—"  
  
"Oh, really?" Greg folded his arms. "Lemme guess, you've arranged for me to have time off."  
  
"Indeed, I have. She agreed that you've needlessly taxed yourself. You are not to go anywhere near Scotland Yard for the next seven days. You've been granted time to rest. I will be here to ensure you take it." Mycroft punctuated this last comment with a smile.  
  
"So you're just inviting yourself to stay?"  
  
"I will be in and out, but yes. That _is_ the idea."  
  
Greg stared at Mycroft. Half of him was beyond pissed that he'd taken it upon himself to be his keeper. The other half was incredibly thankful to have a break from work, something other than chips to eat, and Mycroft Holmes to keep him company.  
  
"Do you plan to accept this arrangement?"  
  
"You have big brass ones."  
  
Mycroft lifted an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"  
  
"To come to my flat and tell me what I will and won't do, you've got brass ones. You think I'm going to go along with your little plan, don't you?" Greg ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Well, you've got me. I'm accepting your arrangement."  
  
"Excellent choice."  
  
"But only 'cause I'm exhausted and tired of thinking."    
  
"Whatever the reason," said Mycroft. "I'm...thankful...you're taking this time."  
  
It took three steps for Greg to close the gap between them. He had a proposition of his own. He lifted his chin and looked the elder Holmes square in his eyes. "Thankful enough to join me in the shower?"  
  
"Absolutely."


End file.
